


(not as) bitter

by tsurai



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Priscilla POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 07:06:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20926133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsurai/pseuds/tsurai
Summary: It's an early morning in Novigrad, and the Chameleon is quiet.“Hey, I was going to eat that!” Dandelion gasps.





	(not as) bitter

**Author's Note:**

> @lethoofgulet on the queer witcher server prompted [from this prompt meme](https://tsuraiwrites.tumblr.com/post/184357185407/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you):
>
>>   
_Me at mcdonalds: could i get uhhhhhhh geralt / dandelion #39 pls_   
  

> 
> and then it turned into polyamory ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 

“Hey, I was going to eat that!” Dandelion gasps, looking between his suddenly empty hand and the last spiced plum kolache from the breakfast tray, currently disappearing- no, gone, into Geralt’s mouth in three quick bites. Priscilla just barely stifles a snort of laughter behind her hands, bursting into wheezing giggles when Dandelion’s expression morphs from betrayal to anger as Geralt smirks. 

In the next moment, Geralt vaults the table and is out the door before Dandelion can so much as lunge. She isn’t at all surprised when he dashes after him, practically squawking in his outrage. 

This isn’t quite routine, but it’s not new, not anymore. The growing familiarity sets a warm coal burning in her chest. Eventually her laughter turns into coughing, and she’s back to the foul tea that Geralt insists will help her throat heal with little scarring. Bitter as it is, she trusts him more than the two-copper hack in the square who calls himself an herbalist.

Zoltan blows his nose into a handkerchief and finishes the last of his bacon, grumbling, “If the lads aren’t back in five minutes, go tell ‘em to stop canoodling in the back alley. That gormless idiot hasn’ balance the accounts this month and I’m not doin’ ‘em for the third time in a row.”

Priscilla snorts again and promptly chokes on her tea, waving Zoltan off when he scrambles over to thump her on the back. 

A warm, callous hand settles on the back of her neck, and Priscilla leans into the touch without hesitation. Geralt presses a fresh vial of the sweet, clovey numbing syrup into her hand, pressing a kiss to her hairline. 

She takes a draught before she can speak without irritation, twisting to look up at Geralt. “Is he about to come charging in here and knock us both over?”

The witcher shakes his head and slips down on the bench beside her. “Nah, lost him at the morning market. He never looks up.”

They fall quiet, listening to the noise of the waking city as it drifts through an open window. Priscilla sighs when Dandelion slips down on her other side, an arm sliding around her waist to match Geralt’s resting on her shoulder. She exhales into the warmth, leaning into their embrace. 

The tea doesn’t taste as bitter.

**Author's Note:**

> [follow and/or prompt me on tumblr](https://tsuraiwrites.tumblr.com/)


End file.
